


Nudum Pactum

by SusannahDean



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Richonne - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusannahDean/pseuds/SusannahDean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick meets Woodbury’s mysterious new dictator. S3 Richonne AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nudum Pactum

Quickly and cautiously, Rick Grimes made his way to the rear entrance of the feed store as Daryl, with his crossbow at the ready, darted around to the right side of the dilapidated structure. So far, there had been almost no signs that The Governor or his henchmen had arrived yet, just a single recently slain walker that could’ve been left behind by anyone passing through the area. Still, he remained apprehensive. Nothing about this felt right, but Andrea had been so persistent, almost desperate, and he was at the very least, curious about what this Governor had to say for himself. Andrea apparently knew him, trusted him to some degree, and even believed he was capable of a reasonable compromise. She seemed positive that something beneficial would come from this meeting, that she could redeem both herself and The Governor of their initial missteps. Rick, however, was not nearly as optimistic.

Rick flattened himself against the wall, and tilted his head, peeking into the opening of the building. Listening. Almost at once, he could hear the soft murmur of female voices. Curiosity now furrowing his brow more so than trepidation, he stepped into the dark shadows of the drafty building, his revolver raised.

Once inside, he found himself dumbstruck. Two women, all by themselves, huddled over a map, and blithely conversing at the only table in the entire room. He stood there for a moment, awkward and stiff, but he was still well-hidden by the darkness, and they had not yet spotted him. He chanced a single step closer.

One of the women, of course, was Andrea who was standing next to a seated leather-clad black woman with long unbound dreadlocks, and what looked to be a katana in its scabbard lying close to her on the table. Almost without thinking, Rick took another step forward, cursing himself inwardly as his boot crunched something on the floor, loud enough to be heard throughout the small space. The two women stopped what they were doing and stared at him as he stepped into the sunlight that streamed in through rafters, lowering his pistol, but keeping it ready at his side. Andrea turned, and leaned against table as the unfamiliar woman calmly folded the map and tucked it into the pocket of her leather jacket. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked him over, and he could feel the heat of her gaze burn into his flesh, rocking his confidence. He hadn’t anticipated having to face a woman that looked the way she did, it was distracting as hell, and he figured it must’ve been some sort of twisted play employed by The Governor to catch him off-guard. He met her stare evenly. Something almost feral flashed across her otherwise serene features, too fleetingly to truly capture what it could’ve been, so he disregarded it, as he was not quite sure what to make of her just yet.

Rick’s hard glare found Andrea’s wide blue eyes, “You’re early,” he nearly snarled at her through gritted teeth as he approached the table, none too pleased.

The seated woman pushed her chair slightly away from the table and twisted it to face him as he moved in on Andrea, watching him carefully.

“So are you,” Andrea replied coolly, placing a hand on her hip as she scowled right back at him.

He swung his glare towards the seated woman and stalked towards her hotly, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion and anger, “So you’re The Governor?” he demanded, squaring his shoulders off to her and staring her down from his elevated positon.

She smiled slightly, craning her neck to look up at him, as he was standing so close, “Well, no…”

He immediately recognized her accent as the soft familiar purr of a well-educated denizen of Atlanta.

A City Girl, then.

“But,” she continued, “I am his representative. Of sorts.”

Andrea grinned, “Yeah, the closest they came to nicknaming her was ‘The Samurai’, but she didn’t seem to take too kindly to _that_.”

The City Girl’s playful smirk fell as she cut her eyes over to Andrea, but it was back in an instant. “Oh, I don’t know…” she uttered in her soft Atlanta purr as she leaned back in her chair. In one fluid motion, she shimmied her bottom forward in her seat, while slowly, deliberately sliding one leg up and crossing it over the other. The movement simultaneously caught Rick’s eye and forced him to step back slightly. The woman smirked as she watched his eyes skim along the toned lines of her legs.

Rick swallowed dryly as he realized what had given him the impression of pants was actually the combination of very tall laced-up riding boots and a very short dark green skirt, the ensemble, which included perhaps the tallest black socks known to man, he thought to himself as he noted the ribbed fringe extending an inch or two above the boots, left about five inches of bare brown thigh.

“…. _someone_ recently told me I’m more of a rōnin, anyway,” she continued, never taking her eyes off of Rick.

Andrea pressed her lips together, suppressing a chortle, although Rick remained unamused as he glared between the two women.

Rick’s attention once again settled on The City Girl. The way she affected him was unnerving to say the least. He allowed himself a long moment of scrutiny, begrudgingly admiring her large almond eyes and thick dark lashes. With her face tilted up at him, her nose formed a sweet-heart-shape, and her nostrils flared as if catching his scent. Her dark skin was flawless, and her impeccably shaped cupid’s bow demanded his attention as her full lips parted, drawing in a deep breath. He judged her age to be early or mid-30’s and she was distractingly beautiful, a woman he’d admire from afar in his previous life, exotic as she seemed to him.

“Well,” Rick said, attempting to shake off whatever _that_ was, and drawing his own sharp breath as he took a few steps back. He sidestepped, and moved further into the room. “I came here to talk to him, not his _representatives_ ,” he quipped, glancing around, belatedly scanning for any signs of a possible ambush. Satisfied that the three of them were alone for the time being, Rick jammed his revolver into its holster. The City Girl, having shifted around in her seat to keep an eye on him, said nothing, and only sat there looking entirely too at ease, taking him in with her eyes as though he were the most fascinating specimen in the exhibition hall.

“He’s in no condition to talk, believe me,” Andrea chimed in, striding past him, her fluffy blonde ponytail swinging as she shook her head for emphasis. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against a support beam near the center of the room, her bright blue eyes carefully gauging his response to the news. Rick’s eyes darted over to Andrea, but he could still feel the other woman’s eyes boring into him, as he suddenly realized that he was now standing between the two armed women. With some effort, he swallowed and rolled his shoulders back down into a neutral position.

The woman used this to opportunity to really look him over this time…lean hard body, deep Georgia tan, rugged angular features, deep blue eyes that gave too much away and far too easily… she, in fact, could not stop staring into his eyes, and could’ve spent all day reading the conflicting emotions that flashed through them.

Rick glanced around trying his best to appear nonchalant, but his gaze kept falling upon her lips. He shifted, settling his weight into the heels of his feet, and allowing one hand to hang at his side, while the other rested upon the butt of his gun. He glanced towards his boots before looking to Andrea, someone he’d once considered a friend. The question as to why she would lure him here under false pretenses was written all over his face, but her icy blue stare offered him no reassurance.

“You’re free to leave at any time,” The City girl abruptly interjected into the unbearable quiet, “Just please understand that I do have to authority to mobilize Woodbury’s rather sizeable army.”

Rick glared at her in contentious silence, one corner of his upper lip twitched into a barely perceptible sneer.

“I’m merely stating a fact.”

He stood squeezing the butt of his gun, with his head angled downward to watch her.

Rick’s jaw repeatedly clenched and relaxed as he stared at her, but she felt a slight dip in her mood when she could no longer read his expression, as his eyes were now shadowed by his furrowed brow. “I’d hate to come off as pushy, but we’ve all lost so much in the past year and a half…It’s the way of the world now. You take what you want. It would be almost unthinkable nowadays to let the best things just slip away from you without a fight…wouldn’t you agree, Rick?”

Before he could reply, his breath momentarily became caught in his throat when the woman moistened her lips. “Yeah…” he found himself reluctantly becoming lulled by the soft cadence of her voice, not even quite sure what her exact words had been, or of their meaning, but he wanted to agree, that much he knew, and he hated himself for it.

The City Girl was the first to break eye contact, “Andrea,” she called to the other woman.

The sudden sweet, amorous turn in the tone of her voice caught him off guard, and he restlessly shifted his weight to his left foot, then back to his right.

“I’d like to talk to Rick alone if you don’t mind?”

Andrea nodded as she came towards the table, and casually leaned over to plant a kiss firmly upon The City Girl’s plump mouth. The woman smiled sweetly as Andrea whispered something to her before heading towards the door. As she walked past him, Andrea left Rick with a firm pat on his shoulder and an apologetic smirk, “Well, good luck,” she said before sauntering away and closing the heavy sliding door behind her. Rick allowed his glare to linger irritably in her direction she’d gone.

The City Girl followed Rick’s gaze as he glanced over to the broken remnants of the shattered window where Daryl had been observing from the outside. Daryl moved away and disappeared from view after they’d exchanged curt nods.

“Will you just sit and listen?” The City Girl asked politely, folding her hands and placing onto her lap. “I have quite a lot to say.”

He nodded, warily drawing up a chair and taking the spot at the table furthest from her, twisting his head to the side to cast her a side-long glance.

She leaned forward, “I’ve heard so much about you…I’ve been looking forward to this since Andrea suggested it.”

“Well, Andrea hasn’t mentioned anything about you,” he retorted, irritation tinging his voice as he dismissively glanced away from her. His eyes snapped back towards her, eager to register any negative reaction.

The City Girl merely nodded, “There are good reasons for that,” she said, calmly responding to his transparent attempt at rudeness. “We’re trying to maintain The Governor as a figurehead…he has powerful allies who won’t be too happy to hear of his recent, uh-” her eyes flickered off to the side as if searching for the right word, “…misfortune…” she remained silent for a few moments to allow him to process that.

Rick squinted at her, clearly impressed. He glanced towards the floor as he tried to suppress an almost captivated smirk, “You set that up?”

Leaning forward to plant her elbows onto the table, she clasped her hands in such way to obscure her mouth. She didn’t answer verbally, only dipped her head, coyly casting her eyes towards the floor. Her long lashes sweeping downward and then back up when she returned his stare.

“Is that why I’m here? To meet the same…misfortune?” their eyes locked as he awaited her response, and although he failed to detect any hint of deception, he couldn’t seem to rid himself of the uneasy tension low in his belly. That the woman hesitated before answering did not help matters

“No…” she said softy, almost uncertainly, as if she’d just then made up her mind about it. Rick watched raptly as she slowly dragged a thumb across her fat bottom lip before moving her hands away from her face and lowering them. “No. I like you, Rick.”

Rick raised his eyebrows at her. Each time her sultry voice actualized his name, he felt his ears and other, more sensitive parts of himself twitch and stiffen….from the moment he first heard her speak, his mind had already gotten to work on manipulating her voice in his head, replaying numerous renditions, different inflections and in various tones over and over again. He tried to divert his thoughts, tried not imagine how his name would sound if she were to cry it out loudly, or moan it into his ear, and especially, his favorite yet, if she were to utter it in a soft, slightly pained whimper…Rick idly dug his fingernail into the polished surface of the table top, scratching at an imaginary flaw there. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he drawled softly, once again bringing his gaze to meet hers, “I don’t even know your name.”

Rick’s shoulders tensed up when the woman suddenly rose from her seat, and plucked the heavy-looking scabbard from the table as though it weighed nothing. Grinning at him, she slowly ran her hands along its ridged surface and held the sword out in front of her to offer him a better look. “You like it? I love it. _Her_ name’s Lola,” she said, gazing at it adoringly before placing it carefully into a corner.

The enigmatic City Girl turned to face Rick, and slowly began moving towards him. His right hand dropped to the butt of his weapon at once, but she remained undeterred. He watched as she unzipped her jacket, revealing both that she was unarmed, and that her dark green skirt was actually a dress that looked like it was comprised of many strips of fabric, wrapping around and crisscrossing her slim body, beautifully framing her ample bust and utterly painted on. As she came closer, he could see that the dress was fastened by a single zipper track that ran the full length of the garment, the zipper itself dangled beneath the swell of her bosom, catching the sunlight as though it where the centerpiece of the exquisite work of art that was her cleavage. She was practically on top of him now, enveloping him in a faint cloud of sweet, powdery fragrance, and literally straddling his legs between her long, sleek thighs as he sat. He didn’t dare move a muscle.

“You and I…we’re not going to be enemies, Rick,” she said, her voice was as smooth as her skin appeared to be. He could not fathom why or how he’d allowed this stranger to get so close to him, or why his ass seemed to be superglued to his chair, but the most prominent thought racing through his mind at that moment was that a dress like that could only have been designed with easy access in mind. Rick’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he worked hard swallow the lump in his throat.

She stood over him, cocking her head, and taking a moment to watch him squirm uncomfortably before twirling her fingers through his wavy brown hair. He stared up at her, slack-jawed and found it difficult to breathe as he watched her briefly glance towards the sliding door before hiking up her already short dress. Rick’s hands automatically grasped at her thighs, sliding upward to cup the cool, supple flesh of her bare bottom as she made herself comfortable on his lap. She sighed softly as he vigorously groped her, “The Governor,” she moaned as she draped her arms loosely around his neck, “Is no longer a factor, so I’d say you owe me…”

At that, he stilled, staring at her, awaiting her elaboration.

She smiled, “I don’t want to fight with you over this,” she said, leaning close to whisper into his ear, all the while grinding herself against the full, painful throbbing in his pants, “Hand over Merle, and I’ll call it even. I can’t imagine he’d be of much use to you, anyway…” she nodded when he did, slowly, as she slipped her hands beneath his shirt to massage his heaving chest. She gently kissed the corner of his mouth, and his lips puckered to meet hers, almost involuntarily in response. His skin reddened, and beads of sweat appeared on his brow. He blinked rapidly, shame, panic and lust gripping his chest from deep within, and while he spoke no words of protest, his breathing became even more labored.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she cooed, “You don’t have to be afraid…” And with that, he knew he’d let her take him, that he wanted her to…that as soon as he’d been left alone with her, he’d already been pushed beyond the point of any possible retreat. Rick felt his inhibitions fall away from his mind as he concentrated on her sweet voice and on the feel of her in his hands. He watched, in a near-trance like state, as she slowly unzipped the top of her dress, just enough to expose herself. Her jacket partially hid her from his view, and he was suddenly overcome with the urge to tear it from her body and toss it to the floor-

“Rick,” she said, grasping his chin to look directly into his eyes, “It’s OK,” she said as she guided his cold, shaking fingers to her exposed breasts, “You don’t have to think…” She looked him over as he struggled to control his breathing, the bright red flush on the apples his cheeks and his nervous vulnerability made him so irresistible to her now. His half-lidded eyes were glossy and red-rimmed, but she knew for sure that he had more than enough energy left in him for _this_. She knew from first-hand experience, that a man could be close to death, could bleeding, could be shattered, mangled and in pain, but she could always think up creative ways evoke that last bit of sensual energy from them, no matter what.

This one was… _different_. Something about him made her want to go easy on him, to be uncharacteristically… _gentle_ with him…and if things went well for him, he would never know how lucky he’d been for it…however, it took almost everything within her not to claw her nails into his beautiful flesh or to mar him with her teeth, just to experience the siren-song of his blood-curdling screams. “The pain, fear, shame… were buried in it every day,” she told him, “Don’t think about that right now…”

He obliged, far too eagerly for his own liking, but her firm flesh in his hands felt so good, and her sweet, powdery scent intoxicated him. Her voice, her body and her eyes became his entire world in that moment. Her deep brown orbs encompassed his entire view, the sound of her voice blocked out all others, and the feel of her velvet-like skin was the only tactile sensation he registered. A small twinge of danger still feebly nagged at him, but it was fleeting, and easy for him to shove to the back mind. “…Just let go…” she urged him. She bit her lip as he roughly pinched her hard nipples before devouring them, sucking one and then the other into his hot mouth and gently gnawing at them with his teeth.

As she worked nimbly, quickly unfastening his belts and jeans, he was only barely cognizant of the sound of his gun belt and pistol striking the floor. Her handling of him was formidable to say the least, and not gentle at all, as she manually stroked him a few times before reaching down to pull her own skimpy underwear aside. She rubbed him along her impressively groomed, moistened folds, and he was sure he would die of anticipation before she expertly rolled her hips, gasping loudly as she forcibly impaled herself on his thick, rigid length. Her tongue snaked towards him, lightly grazing his lips and nose as she rode him, and when his lips parted to allow a strangled groan to escape, the lascivious City Girl tightly gripped his chin, and jammed her tongue deep into his mouth.

She rode him wildly, allowing her full weight to free fall with each downward stroke, her round, pert breasts jumping, bouncing softly into his face as she hammered her lithe body into his, engulfing every engorged inch of him. From His own limited sexual experiences, he’d imagine most women would want to be more careful for fear of the pain of that could result from such deep, relentless thrusting, but Rick got the sense that this tireless girl could be impossibly insatiable. A small part of him found it odd, the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and the way her body now burned feverishly, almost hot enough to scorch him. Her need seemed far too great, and almost pathological in nature. Tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as she writhed wantonly in his arms…something about this was not right, something about _her_ , but Rick simply could not bring himself to care. He winced as her long, sharp nails clawed into his scalp and leg, but all he could do was hold on for dear life.

She began to softly whimper-not his name, but the sound was just as sweet he’d imagined- as her body began to tightly contract around him, and at the height of her ecstasy, she bowed her back, tossing her head. Rick tightened his grip around her before she could topple, pulling her close and taking a moment to taste the soft skin of her long, graceful neck. She lowered her head to his, her long dreads falling over him like a curtain, creating the illusion of a private space just for the two of them, “I think…” she managed to say between her panting breaths, “…I might be in love,” she whispered to him before beginning to move again. She ignored the hand he gently pressed against her hips, trying to slow her movements. Instead, she tightly grasped the back of his muscular neck and braced herself with a hand against his thigh, leaning back to ride him even harder. She rocked her body into his with such force, that the chair they occupied skidded a few times, screeching loudly against the hard concrete floor.

A hint of pain needled up his spine as she rode him roughly to a prickling climax, but he stayed with her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as a wordless roar erupted from his throat. Her body clamped down around him once again, milking him almost dry of his very essence, but she kept going well beyond the last spams of his climax almost as if she couldn’t stop.

Rick watched, amazed, and a little frightened, as she stilled, closed her eyes, and took a series of deep calming breaths. Her brown eyes fluttered open, and she cupped his stubbly face, placing slow, soft kisses onto his lips and cheeks, almost lovingly in their tenderness before she moved away. He cringed, and nearly doubled over in pain as she dismounted him, but despite being raw, chaffed and likely bruised now, he smiled at her, and instinctively reached out to steady her when she nearly stumbled. She actually laughed at herself for being clumsy, her legs wobbly after such an intense leg workout. Rick found her jubilant smile to brilliant and infectious.

Rick slumped heavily back into his seat, relaxed now, and breathing easily, even a bit drowsy, blinking listlessly as he watched her zip up and right her clothing. She placed one booted foot into the seat of her chair, bending over to adjust her socks and laces, and then repeated the same process with her opposite foot.

All Rick could muster when he’d regained some of his composure was, “Nice boots.”

The City Girl cut him a sly, playful look.

He cleared his throat nervously, “Well, if you’re not going to tell me your name…” he said, letting his curiosity get the best of him, “One last thing? Something I ask strangers sometimes…a few simple questions. Just three.” It was taking him an extraordinarily long time to buckle up, as his hands were not fully cooperating. His fingers seemed to have temporarily lost some of their dexterity, and were slippery with perspiration.

She smirked, “We’re still strangers after that?”

He smiled, glancing up at her shyly, “Humor me?”

She lowered her gaze, briefly considering his request before nodding, “Okay.”

“How many walkers have you killed?”

She blinked, “Biters?” she shook her head, grinning, “What a question, Rick…A lot. Far too many to keep track of.”

His eyes followed the gentle sway of her hips as she performed dance-like movements, bending and flexing her knees as she stretched.

He nodded, shifting in his seat to sit upright, having given up on his pants for the time being. “How many people have you killed?”

She grinned at him, pushing her hair out of the way as she placed her katana over her shoulders, and answered without hesitation, “Same.”

He froze suddenly, and his eyes snapped from her thighs to her face. His awkwardly set shoulders tense now, as he gawked at her in disbelief. “ _Why_?” he asked breathlessly. He could tell the question confused her, and perhaps even annoyed her, and that’s when he saw it-or rather, allowed himself to-right there, behind her calm façade, beneath her youthful vibrant beauty he saw her thinly veiled instability-her madness, or whatever you’d want to call it, and it was likely that she was never attempting to hide it from him at all. He’d just been so taken with her, that he simply chose to ignore the warnings, to cast aside what years of police training could have easily told him.

She came close to where he still sat and looked down at him, grinning when she heard a soft sound escape the back of his throat as her knee gently brushed against his thigh. Rick’s heart thumped in his chest, and he wanted to move away, to run screaming from what he saw in those eyes, but her gaze wouldn’t allow it. Her dark eyes scanned his face, and settled upon spot just below his hairline. He recoiled from her as she reached towards him, and he hissed in pain when she thumbed away a few droplets of blood before they could roll into his eye. She furrowed her brow, and frowned almost sadly at him, regarding him as one would some sort of pitiful game animal caught in an intellectual trap he could never hope to escape, as if the answer was as plain as day, the most obvious in the world really, and Rick sat there, frozen as she gently stroked is cheek. As they gazed at each other, the tension in his shoulders eased, and his breathing once again returned to normal. Looking back now, it all began make sense, and _of course_ his enchanting City Girl had been right about everything, he thought to himself as the meaning of the words she spoke to him earlier dawned upon him. When her madness found its way to his, they mingled, fed into one another, reverberated, merged, and began to grow. Rick looked on, as if hypnotized when those soft, plump lips formed her breathy response,

“Why not?”

 

 

 


End file.
